Toy Soldiers
by Ramonks33
Summary: AU: Modern Day. One shot. "She reaches out, handing the toy soldier to Cato, smiling softly as he takes the toy figure in his hands. "I think...he'd be proud of you," she says softly, knowing she didn't sound like the normal seven year olds everybody thought she was, "I mean, one day, maybe you can be a soldier too!" Little Cato and Clove.
1. Chapter 1

_Toy Soldiers_

_ A/N: Wanted to write a quick one-shot, as I feel I'm getting lazy. I finished Wonder, by RJ Palacio, and my heart is dead. I've had this idea in my fanfic idea Notes for awhile, I just wanted to get it out because it's been there forever. AU, Modern sorta day. Please read and review! Dedictated to one of my best friends, this is for you man. You know who you are._

* * *

"Cato, sweetie, did you put Alexandria down for her nap?"

Seven year old Cato's head snaps up at the sound of his mother. Alexandria. Widening his eyes, he sets down the army figures he had been playing with gently on the wooden floor. He had them all set up in formation, like his father had described. The Eastern Army was on the left side of the wooden floor, about ten or twenty of them. The Western Army was on the right side, and though Cato had no clue he had placed them on the wrong side, he was rather proud of his arrangement. Ever since his father departed for Afghanistan roughly two years ago, Cato had become obsessed with finding out everything about the US Army, Marines and Airforce. He wanted to become a soldier, brave and proud, just like his Dad.

Standing up, he pauses for a moment, staring around him. He observes the small propaganda posters his Dad had helped him paste on the light blue walls, flashes of red and white contributing to the American flag. He supposed his Dad was rather patriotic in a way. He fit the American stereotypical image. Broad shouldered, tall, with a rather handsome carved face. Cato inherited his father's bright blue eyes and spiked blond hair. His mother was the same, but she had her own share of imperfections. Swelling bruises from the past, her scars were what had drawn Cato's father to his mother. She was a survivor of abuse, and had grown stronger from it. During his training, he had met her one night, getting a drink with his buddies. When he had seen her there, alone without a friend, he had extended his hand to her. And after that, they had become Mike and Marissa Hadley, married after three years. He was sent away to Afghanistan when Cato had been 5. They had Alexandria when he was 3.  
Cato cared strongly for his baby sister, as he knew he had to become the man of the house when his father had departed them. Having to take the weight of doing more chores then usual, he remembers the last night before his father had to leave. He had come into Cato's room, a sad smile on his face. Wrinkles lined his face, as he sat next to son, who had been reading a book on the army for children.

"Cato, you're gonna take care of Mom for me, right?" he asks, ruffling his hair. Cato had nodded, setting the book down on his lap. He pulled himself into Mike's lap, placing his head against his chest. His father's strong arms wrapped themselves around his son, as he kissed his forehead.

"You're going to have to be the man of the house, alright?" he says after some silence, "Take care of your Mom. And Lexi. Be the man I want you to be."

Cato couldn't help but feel childish as he stares up into his father's eyes, seeing himself in them. Would he be as strong as his father one day? Brave? As strong as a lion? Protective? He had seen the way his father had taken care of the, protecting them from every possible annoyance and threat that had come their way in his short five years. He wipes away a tear that forms at the corner of his eyes, and he nods. "I promise, Daddy." '_I'll make you proud.' he had mentally promised to himself._

It's been two years since Mike Hadley had been sent off to Afghanistan, and time had not been kind. Seven years old, and he had more responsibilities then he ought to. Today was one of those rare days where he could just be a child and play with his toys like he should. Usually, he would be helping his mother clean the house, or supervising his sister. She was only two years old.  
Entering his sister's room, he smiles at the pair of bright blue eyes that greet him from in between the bars of the crib. Happiness floods inside of him, as he walks over to his baby sister, Alexandria.

"Hey, Lexi," he greets softly, poking at her from in between the bars. "How're you?"

He laughs softly, when he is returned with a murmur of gargles and unintelligible words. Only a few words he can understand. Cato. She could say that, for sure. She could also say Momma and barely remembered her father, but when he would tell stories to her, rocking her gently, she would repeat his words. 'Papa. She could say that.

"Time for a nap," he says, lowering the bars of her crib so he could access her more easily. Laying her down on the pink blankets, she begins to fuss, her limbs flailing in the air. When he lay a white and blue blanket over her tiny body, she began to relax. Pulling the trigger for the mobile that lay above her, he smiles as her tiny eyes begin to close, succumbing to the sweet melody that began to take her. Soft white birds flew above her in a circular motion, guarding the little baby as she began to fall asleep. Cato smiles, kissing his little sister's forehead, before putting the bars back up.

He turns away from the crib, to see his mother, smiling at her son standing next to his sister's crib. Cato's heart warmed, as he saw the rarely displayed smile on his mother's face. He walks over to her, hugging her as she extends her arms. She's dressed in her usual apron, the blue and red one she used for cooking and cleaning. Her long blonde hair was braided, trailing down her back. Even when she was tired and sad, Cato would always say his mother was always as beautiful. He had seen pictures before, before his father had left for Afghanistan. When they had been younger, and hopes were higher for the Hadleys. In one photo, she looked like a super model, in a dress that had hugged her curves perfectly, her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves. Her cerulean eyes had seemed to glow, as Cato's father's arm was wrapped around her waist, suspended in time. She didn't like to look at those photos anymore.

"Hey, punkin," she whispers, kissing his forehead, "Thanks for doing that for me. I had to get the house clean before Clove came over."

"It's okay, Ma," he replies softly, pulling back to look into her eyes. He smiles as he sees the familiar blonde loose strand curling around her face, framing her oval face as usual. To Cato, his mother's face never looked quite right unless there was a loose strand.

"I made chocolate chip cookies," Marissa Hadley says softly, her voice somewhat hoarse. Cato took this as a good sign, as usually, if she was in a good mood, she'd be singing during her chores. If her voice was slightly hoarse, that must mean she was in a particularly good mood, "I know how much you and Clove love them."

"Really?" he exclaims, his face displaying such surprise. She nods gently, and laughs as Cato wraps his arms around her neck, kissing her cheek, "Thanks!"

"You and Clove have been friends since what, last year?" she ruffles his hair as she straightens up. Cato follows her as she continues to ramble, talking to herself about their first meeting in kindergarten, a year ago. This year, they were entering Panem Elementary School near the end of the street. It was easy walking distance, so the two friends would be able to walk together.

A loud knock came from the front door, and Cato, without even hesitation, runs from his mother's side as he twists the golden knob excitedly, eager to see his best friend. Flinging the front door open, he comes face to face with his best friend, Clove Furhman.

"Hey, Clove!" he yells excitedly, smiling at the slightly shorter brown haired girl in front of him. The two were best friends, only having met each other the previous year in kindergarten. She looked small and innocent, with her big brown eyes and freckles decorating her cheeks, but Cato had known better. She was a fighter, a real brave kid. That's why he had picked her to be one of his best friends. Today, she was dressed in a bright green shirt with a smiley sun, and a pair of blue jean shorts.

"Hey!" she says, her cheeks lifting as her lips curl into a smile. Flinging herself into Cato's arms, they hug for a bit, and she turns back and waves at her mother, who is watching from the sidewalk. It was a milestone for Clove, to be able to walk from the sidewalk to the front door without adult supervision.

"Bye, Mom!" she yells, waving to her mother, a short, stout brunette woman, holding the hand of her older brother, Jeffrey, who both in return wave back. Shutting the door to block out the hot Atlanta sun, she sighs in happiness as the air conditioner washes over the both of them. They begin to talk animatedly about how their summers were going, and how glad they would be to start school together in the first grade. Cato leads Clove to his bedroom, where he had planned their afternoon activity together.

"Today, we're going to play Army!" he exclaims, gesturing to his set up. She stares at it for a moment, trying to recollect everything she had learned from late night play dates, where Cato would begin to ramble about the army. She walks over to one of the green soldiers, picking it up.

"How do we play 'Army'?" she asks, wrinkling her nose as she observes the tiny soldier from all angles. Cato gingerly takes the figure from her, as he explains the basic goal of the game is to eliminate the soldiers of the enemy side, and she listens, trying to get the grasp. She knew Cato would most likely eliminate her, but she didn't time. She liked to spend time with Cato, as he was her best friend. All the other girls didn't understand her like Cato, except maybe Katniss Everdeen. He never questioned her wanting to play sports, or taking up knife throwing even if she was so young, and even if she had cut her hair with a pair of scissors during one of Ms. Donner's classes.

"Got it?" he asks after a lengthy explanation about the rules of elimination and how you can only eliminate a section if you do the elimination project by that many times of soldiers. The rules didn't make much sense to her, but he was the one with the father in the army, so she supposed he must know better then her.

"Got it."

* * *

"I win!"

An hour into their game, and Clove has won the game against all odds. The game had been rather tense, the pair of them both blood thirsty and eager to win. Clove had nearly failed at first, but there had been a turning point when Cato lost almost five soldiers to her one soldier's attack. By then, it was Cato's own strategy that caused him to fall. He pouts for a moment, letting Clove celebrate in her victory.

"I was letting you win," he mumbles softly, narrowing his eyes at her dancing figure. She stops in her tracks and laughs, shaking his soldiers.

"C'mon, Cato, lighten up!"

"You beat me."

"It wasn't my fault."

"Yes, it was."

"Your strategy, not mine," she points out rightfully, and smiles when she's realized he's stumped. She takes a seat next to him and begins to gather the soldiers, placing them in the All American decorated bucket that held the soldiers. The pair are quiet for a moment, before she picks one up, simply observing them.

"D'you ever think your Dad is playing Army too?"

"Yeah." His voice is quieter, a bit more serious then before, "He does it ever day. He hasn't died, though. He's strong like that. D-D'you think he'd be proud me, Clove?"

She reaches out, handing the toy soldier to Cato, smiling softly as he takes the toy figure in his hands. "I think...he'd be proud of you," she says softly, knowing she didn't sound like the normal seven year olds everybody thought she was, "I mean, one day, maybe you can be a soldier too!"

"That's be great!" Cato exclaims, pretending to make the figure raise his gun and shoot it's gun at Clove, making pewing noises as he did.

"And maybe I can join you!" Clove exclaims happily, taking another figure and playing with it as well.

"We can be together, fighting!"

"Saving the world!"

"Be brave and strong!"

"But, Cato..." she looks at Cato, quiet for a moment, as though realizing the fate the pair were condemning themselves to, "If we do...can we promise...we'll be together, or not at all?"

He doesn't speak a word for a moment, before extending his pinky. Her pinky wraps around his, as he echoes the word. A vow that will go across time and for hours on end, until the end of their friendship.

"Promise."

"Cookies are ready!" Marissa Hadley calls from the other room, and the two break apart, jumping up and laughing as they exit the room, almost forgetting that promise, as the two toy soldiers they had been playing with lay side by side each other on the wooden ground, their arms intertwined.


	2. Chapter 2

_Toy Soldiers, chapter 2_

_ A/N: Oops, my fingers slipped. Okay, let me explain. I wanted to write this, but I didn't wanna add this as a new one shot, as this was a sort of idea that decided to pop into my head, so here's a chapter...two? I don't even know what to call this. GAH._

* * *

He smiles to himself, as he places the building blocks right on top of each other, the red and blue color contrasting with each other quite nicely. Stacking the last two on top of the gigantic pile, he relaxes in his chair, staring at his creation with a satisfied grin. A tall building with alternating colors of blue, white and red. Just like the flag that hangs in the corner of Miss Massey's classroom.

September, 2014. Cato and Clove were just starting their second year at Panem Elementary, their nearby education institute. Their mothers, Marissa Hadley and Penelope Sevina, both agreed it would be beneficial if they sent their children to the same school, that way they could see each other there instead of having to walk their children to each other's house every weekend. Jeffrey, Clove's older brother, was already in the fifth grade at Panem, and was getting ready to live his final year in Panem before going to junior high. They hadn't thought it would be likely that Clove and Cato would be placed in the same classroom, but they got lucky, as the school had happily agreed to place them in the same second grade class of Room 2B. There, they could meet every day, play, and talk about everything a seven year old could think of.

He glances over to Clove, who sits in her desk, drawing something on a white piece of paper. Since the pair had already finished their reading, Miss Massey had agreed to let them do as they please. Meaning, letting Clove draw and letting Cato pull out the Legos in the corner, as he had a strange fondness of building with them. The desks were put into pairs, so he was stationed right next to Marvel Quaid, an odd yet likeable boy. Clove sits next to Leven Stevens, though she gained the nickname "Glimmer" from the fact that nearly every binder she owned was covered in the stuff. Cato, leaning over the desk, taps Clove on the back gently.

"Clove." he says, trying to peer over her shoulder. He tries his best to stay quiet, as everybody was still reading chapters 4 to 5 of _The Twits_, by Roald Dahl. Assigned reading, though an odd choice. He peers over Clove's shoulder, to see a family of monkeys in a tree, the smallest one holding a balloon. She colors the balloon red, not having heard Cato. He jabs her in the shoulder again, but she continues to color, remaining persistent in her task. Growing annoyed, he notices the huge, slick ponytail her hair is fashioned in. A mischevious grin overtakes his face, as he slowly raises his hand, and with no warning, yanks the ponytail as hard as he can.

"OW!"

Clove whirls around, a furious expression on her freckled face. The rest of the children, Leven, Marvel, Peeta and others, all turn curiously towards the west side of the classroom, to observe what the hell was happening. Miss Massey, still absent from the room, does not appear as Clove glares at Cato. She twists herself around in her orange, plastic seat to give him a furious glare.

"Cato! Why did you do that?" she inquires, rubbing the slicked back head of hair, obviously sore from the tug. Next to her, Leven giggles, and Marvel widens his eye as Clove bravely punches him in the arm. His smile turns into a scowl, as Cato bites his lip.

"You weren't listening!" He protests, crossing his arms at her. "I was trying to talk to you, but you were busy drawing dumb monkeys!"

"They are not dumb!"

"Yes, they are!"

"I was drawing them for _you_!"

A hush falls over Cato, as the second grade class immediately dissolves into variations of surprise. Some children laugh and point at the surprised second grader, others cover their mouths, their eyes widened in such surprise. Cato stumbles with his words, unable to think of the words he could say to her after this. After he finally thinks about it, he shakes her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Clove! Clove, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

She ignores him, promptly getting up and taking the drawing in her hands. For a brief moment, Cato sees her scrawled penmanship on the back of the page, reading "TO CATO." Frowning, she walks over to the garbage can and rips it up before his eyes, before tossing it into the garbage can. Cato's heart breaks as the beautiful drawing falls into the trash, and when he tries to apologize again, she ignores him once more, pretending he doesn't exist.

* * *

Lunchtime, she continues to ignore him, sitting with the other girls that wear the pretty dresses Clove rarely wears. When Cato attempts to walk over and talk to her, it earns him a spoonful of applesauce in his face, courtesy of Katniss Everdeen. Wiping the sauce off his face, he returns miserably to his seat next to Marvel. Marvel, watching sadly, shakes his head. The rest of the day, he continues to try and talk to her, but only receives cold silence. When his mother picks him up from school, she notes the sad silence, and that Clove was not running up to him and waving madly like she did every other day.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Marissa Hadley asks, peering at her son in the backseat. Cato doesn't look up from his jean shorts, picking at one of the holes that have formed from wear. When he doesn't reply, she doesn't ask, frowning slightly, knowing it must have been something with Clove. The lack of conversation, and not seeing Clove waiting with him was clear signs. They had a fight. As soon as they pull into the driveway, Cato climbs out, to find his mother extending her hand to him. Glancing at it, he shakes his head, and walks on into the white house, carrying his backpack.

Marissa frets over her son, deciding to try and find a way to cheer him up. Making cookies always made Cato feel better. And so, an hour and a half later from his return, she calls him into the kitchen, a glass of milk and warm chocolate chip cookies on the table. Noting his slumped posture, she runs a hand through his spiked blonde hair, she smiles sadly as he looks up at her, bits of milk on his upper lip. Wiping it off for him, she takes a seat across from him.

"Sweetie, did something at school happen with Clove today?"

Cato simply nods in response, avoiding his mother's eyes. When he doesn't say anything else, Marissa presses on, folding her hands together.

"You can tell me, hon."

Cato takes another large bite of the chocolate chip cookie, staring hard at the wooden table that the chocolate chip cookies sat upon. Taking awhile to chew on that specific bit of cookie, he swallows the portion he chewed, before finally meeting his mother's eyes.

"Clove got mad at me today cause I...I pulled her hair."

Marissa widens her eyes, before fighting the frown that wants to appear on her face. She knew she ought to scold him, but something in her tells her that Cato hadn't meant any harm to Clove. Something else, surely. She leans across the table, caressing his cheek gently.

"Hon, why'd you do that?"

"I wanted to talk to her, but she was drawing monkeys. For me..."

Tears begin to well in his eyes, and soon, he finds himself in his mother's embrace, as she whispers words of comfort to him. He didn't want to cry, but for some reason, this hurt him more then anything. For the first time in awhile, he let himself cry, and it because of someone. The last time he did, it was his father. But this time, it was because he thought it was officially over. The friendship between him and Clove. He just wanted his best friend back.

As soon as Cato had finally calmed down, Marissa wipes the tears from his eyes, staring into those bright blue eyes that were just like his father's. Kissing his forehead, she held him for awhile, just holding him close. As his whimpers finally began to cease, she lifts his chin to look at her.

"Cato, sweetie...I think I might know a way to make it up to her."

* * *

Clove ignores the taps that continue on her shoulder, but it was starting to annoy her more then anything. It was second period, reading time. They were supposed to be reading chapters 6 and 7 of _The Twits_. But it was proving rather difficult, as Cato kept poking her in the shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she continues to ignore it, but it begins to grow more difficult. After about five minutes of the pokes, she turns around, fury in her brown eyes.

"What, Cato?" she whisper yells, a skill only the most angry can do without disturbing others. Cato, a soft blush on his face, slowly slides a piece of paper over the desks and into her hands.

"Sorry, Clove."

Taking the paper, she continues to frown as she unfolds it, but what she sees is a bit odd to her. A pair of monkeys, holding balloons! But one of them has bright blue eyes, just like Cato. Another wears a ponytail in its hair, just like Clove, and a red balloon is being grasped by the monkey. And above, in untidy crayon scrawl, read a sentence.

_I was being silly like a monkey. I am sorry _

_ -Cato_

Glancing up from the paper, she sees Cato has returned to the paperback with a bright blush on his face, Marvel hardly being able to hide his surprise at her reaction. Her mouth is wide with surprise, and she slowly closes it, before refolding the paper. Scrawling something on the back quickly with a pen, she pushes it back to Cato, before discreetly turning back to her book. Cato, taking the paper when Miss Massey no longer watches, reads the words, and a grin makes its way onto his face as he reads her response.

_It's okay. _


End file.
